Chapter 235

While the harvesting systems in the Fourth World were undergoing horrific experiments…

Over in the Third World, Bell woke up.

Nothing particularly unusual had happened—it was just morning, that’s all.

I got out of bed, cleaned up, and got dressed.

And when I stepped outside, someone came to guide me to the dining hall.

There, after eating breakfast and relaxing for a bit, some guy who looked like a soldier showed up and took me somewhere.

I crossed through the middle of a city I barely knew just yesterday.

But now, I know this place inside out.

Because I examined the memories within the harvesting systems.

You see, unlike regular people who can only think a few thoughts at once, I can perceive the world simultaneously through the eyes of every single harvesting system.

Plus, I can also move Bell and the meaty lump from the Fourth World at the same time.

It’s not like I’ve developed multiple personalities or anything—it’s all still me. We share memories and act with one unified thought.

If I had to make an analogy, it’s like how the cells in your fingertips and toes move as part of one self—they don’t each have their own individual consciousness, right? That’s kind of what it feels like with the harvesting systems, Bell, and my other forms.

So, I had plenty of time to examine and analyze the memories I gained.

Here’s what I learned from the memories of the harvesting systems:

The name of this place is Atlan Fortress City. It was built to block sea monsters coming from the eastern ocean.

At first glance, it seems like a dangerous spot where no one would want to live except soldiers—but surprisingly, there are lots of merchants here too.

That’s because ships unload their cargo here after traveling from the eastern coast.

The eastern coastline has been ravaged by monsters, so there aren’t any proper ports left. So instead, they bring goods from the ships directly to this location.

No one finds this odd; if anything, they consider it safer due to the strong defensive setup.

Surprisingly, the Third World also has its fair share of monsters.

Actually, let me rephrase that.

Even the Second World had monsters lurking deep in the forests, and I encountered plenty while the harvesting systems spread across the First World.

Except for those faded memories, every world has its share of monsters.

Hmm…

Maybe back then, I simply didn’t recognize them, but they might’ve always been there.

Anyway…

Monsters in the wild are incredibly dangerous—far more vicious than anything in those faded memories. Some are huge and powerful individuals, others possess high intelligence, and some even hunt in packs.

Among these, the pack-hunting monsters live in the eastern seas.

However, since they’re aquatic creatures, they struggle to climb over mountain ranges. So humans have built walls at key locations to keep them out.

That’s why Atlan Fortress City exists.

Still, closing off this area entirely wasn’t an option—they couldn’t abandon shipping transport.

So despite the hassle, they hire laborers to carry goods from makeshift landing zones to here.

Of course, most of the work isn’t done manually anymore—they use carts or animal-drawn wagons. But when large groups gather, monster attacks become a real threat.

That’s why soldiers get injured.

In this world, human lives are cheap, and the region prospers thanks to heavy tariffs on imported goods arriving by sea.

So what happens?

They buy and expend human lives.

Ironically, this might be one of the most “modernized” places around.

Modernization means transitioning from using people until they break to buying and discarding them after paying them money.

Sure, in earlier times, workers were given minimal food and shelter to maintain productivity. Now, they’re paid money, which is then taken back through goods, leaving them to starve.

Won’t this lead to a shortage of labor?

Not really—there’s always fresh labor flooding in from distant lands.

People aren’t treated as long-term investments anymore—they’re disposable tools.

But even though they treat people as disposable, it doesn’t mean those handling them look down on them. Many still show compassion toward injured workers.

When I stepped out of the carriage, a commander greeted me.

We weren’t at the military hospital I visited yesterday—this was the main hospital of Atlan Fortress City.

The commander led me inside.

As soon as we entered, I saw rows upon rows of people. Some wore patient gowns, others bore old scars and missing limbs. There were all kinds of injuries and illnesses represented.

Then, the commander, a local elder, and what appeared to be the hospital owner bowed deeply before me.

They pleaded for miracles.

I happily nodded.

And began producing harvesting systems under the guise of treatment.

Most of the patients were already healed to the extent that hospitals could handle—they should’ve been discharged long ago.

Through their memories, I learned that last night, soldiers had come and told them about a miraculous healer, bringing them to the hospital.

It was well-intentioned.

They wanted to share this blessing with everyone, not just themselves.

Unfortunately, their kindness led to the worst possible outcome.

It’s truly tragic.

The three who bowed to me—despite holding high positions in Atlan Fortress City—are respected by many.

They deserve that respect—they’re good people.

In their kindness, they brought the injured to me.

This reminds me of the saying: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Though it may sound harsh, I’m the one who deceived them. They’re not bad people—they’re actually quite admirable. If anything, I’m the one who tricked them.

Blaming someone for being deceived is foolish. The only ones criticizing others for falling for tricks are those who delude themselves into thinking they wouldn’t fall for the same thing.

They’re pitiful losers who can’t survive without belittling others for being weak.

Heh heh.

I understand failures all too well.

The light sinking beneath the waves reminded me of those broken souls.

Those who’ve suffered crushing defeats, whose minds have shattered, who’ve realized the truth—that the whole world is against them and no one will save them.

So, naturally, they fall for my traps again.

They believe there’s nothing left for me to take from them.

Though I digressed, the bottom line is: I’m the only bad person here.

For now, they seem happy, so let’s leave it at that.

Like someone unaware they’ve taken out an unreasonable loan, they’re rejoicing over newfound wealth.

Look!

They’re even singing songs of gratitude to me. It’s a classic folk song from this country, likely sung during harvest festivals in autumn after all the crops have been gathered.

The hospital turned into a festival ground.

Some cried tears of joy as they touched their regenerated limbs, while others danced hand-in-hand with nearby harvesting systems.

The harvesting systems smiled warmly and sang hymns of blessings.

Though doom awaits them, they’re blissfully unaware.

Why not enjoy the moment?

I laughed smugly among the jubilant harvesting systems as we ran outside.

***

The Fourth World is boring.

My unnamed body lacks even memories.

At first, I was confused by how gaunt my cheeks were, but now I realize there are countless women who look exactly like me.

Probably clones or chimeras.

Artificially created humans.

It makes sense why they’d create such grotesque forms. If you design a vessel artificially, there’s no risk of it becoming possessed by gods or demons.

According to Daegon’s memories, creating a vessel capable of housing a god exceeds the technological capabilities of this world—but I think I’ve figured out why.

While examining the memories of the harvesting systems destroyed during dissection by wizards here, I stumbled upon something interesting.

Although the language used by the harvesting systems was foreign to them, it was familiar to me.

There was a woman from a relatively wealthy family whose arranged marriage fell through, leading to her family’s downfall. Dying from a terminal illness, she made a contract with me.

She didn’t gain psychic abilities, but her improved intellect and physical prowess allowed her to exact revenge on those who ruined her life—until she met her end at the hands of her enemy.

Her memories resemble my childhood.

This must be the world she lived in.

With that realization, several mysteries unraveled.

Why Yasle’s technology was mixed into summoning rituals.

Why the clone army was pre-contracted with me.

Why clones were used as vessels for gods and demons.

Oh, and according to Daegon’s knowledge, cloned bodies tend to degrade over time, making them unsuitable as vessels in most cases.

But there’s Cho-sol.

She was originally meant to be the mother vessel for Daegon.

Harvesting systems, while not perfect, are sufficient for smaller-scale vessels. To improve quality, they could breed clones and select second-generation specimens.

This is likely the result.

Until now, I believed only harvesting systems could pull me forward.

But now, I see the possibility of following the traces left behind by harvesting systems to elevate myself.

Heh heh.

What great luck!

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